


Between Two Lungs

by blueabsinthe



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, New York Rangers, Tampa Bay Lightning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-06
Updated: 2012-06-06
Packaged: 2017-11-07 00:59:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/425192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueabsinthe/pseuds/blueabsinthe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All the events in your life coalesce into one moment ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between Two Lungs

**Author's Note:**

> boltschick2612 wrote [Here I Lay, Just Like Always](http://archiveofourown.org/works/629733), and left such a major cliffie, I just had to try and make something of it.

_April 13, 2012 - 12:31 AM_

Whoever said your life flashes before your eyes before you die was either prescient, or they were high on something … 

_April 13, 2012 - 12:29 AM_

"It's all right, Vince. I was just about to call you actually …"

_April 13, 2012 -12:05 AM_

Being cut from the wreckage is pretty painful. Not nearly as painful as the initial impact, but painful all the same. He feels as he is strapped to a gurney. The last time he was ever tied up was the one time years ago.

In a Dallas hotel room. When Vince was in town with the Lightning for a game. Dallas won that game, if he recalls correctly. 

"You okay with this?" Vince had asked, fingering the ends of the blue silk tie he had used to tie Brad's hands.

"Only because it's you," Brad whispered, grinning as Vince straddled his hips.

_April 13, 2012 - 12:26 AM_

"One of us has to make it … I'm not gone yet." 

_April 12, 2012 -11:40 PM_

Medical personnel are barking out orders around him, the wail of sirens attack his ears, and the bright lights of the city flit past his vision.

"Sir! Can you hear my voice?"

"He's still breathing!" 

Brad groaned, and tried to open his eyes.

"Wait! I think I heard him say something just now! Damn it, where are the paramedics?"

Brad registers about three different voices yelling at him as his mind remembers the near blinding headlights, a crunch of metal on metal. He closes his eyes again, feels his head as it throbs. He groans.

"He's awake!" a voice yelled. 

"Sir! Sir, can you hear me?"

Brad feels a hand on his shoulder, and he winces in pain.

"What is your name?"

"Brad," Brad manages to get out, before he feels the blood pool in his mouth. 

_April 13, 2012 - 12:29 AM_

"John … sorry about the hour …"

_April 12, 2012 - 11:32 PM_

Brad doesn't remember much from the initial impact. He remembers the sound of screeching tires, and the crunching sound of metal against metal. 

Everything goes black after the impact. 

_April 12, 2012 - 11:42 PM_

He coughs, and feels the blood spurt from his mouth. 

"Shit! We've got to get him out of the car! Where the fuck are the paramedics?"

"Sir!" another voice calls, "you're going to be okay. What's your full name? Can you give me your full name?"

Brad glances up, and squints his eyes away from the flashlight being shone in his face. He ignores the throbbing pain in his head as he forces himself to focus on the voices around him. 

He nods his head.

"Okay, good. What's your full name?"

_April 12, 2012 -11:46 PM_

"Brad. Brad Richards," he gets out, feeling the blood trickle down from his lips.

Brad coughs again, another thin line of blood leaks from his mouth. 

"Okay, Brad, can you tell me what your occupation is?"

_April 12, 2012 -11:50 PM_

Brad wants to laugh at the voice. Honestly, doesn't he know who he is?

"Broadway Brad," Brad mumbles, and half-laughs at his teammates' nickname for him.

He sees the dark red trickle down to make a stain on the thigh of his jeans. 

"Beg your pardon?" the voice asks.

"I'm a centre for the New York Rangers," he manages to get out, the blood is pooling in his mouth again.

_April 12, 2012 - 11:28 PM_

Left hand turns are unavoidable. Almost everyone hates making them, but they are a necessity. 

When you're starting to drive, the instructions are mechanical. Take your position in the lane, wait for a gap, shoulder check, and then turn your wheel. Eventually, making left hand turns becomes second nature. 

Did we forget to mention that it hurts when you get hit by an oncoming car? 

No?

Okay, well, let's back up a bit. It hurts to get hit by a car. Like a lot. Like a real, fucking lot. There are no words to describe what it feels like when three thousand pounds of metal crashes into you. 

Think of the worst possible physical pain you have ever been in, now take that, times it by maybe a thousand, and - oh, screw that - it is almost impossible to describe that amount of pain unless you too have been struck by a car. 

So, to everyone who has never been in a car accident, but insists they know what the pain feels like, tell them they have no fucking clue what they're talking about. And, pray they never have to experience that kind of pain.

Let's go back to the intersection, the one where you were about to make a left turn. Now, let's say, a car from behind hits you with enough force to propel you into the intersection, where, yes, that oncoming car hits you.

It's pretty fucking painful. 

Brad's pretty sure the time he broke his arm when he was five was much better than the pain he was in now.

_April 13, 2012 - 12:33 AM_

Vince knows he's not dying. But it sure feels like it as he hears the voice of his old coach float toward him from the phone he has a death grip on.

"There was an accident …" John's tone is calm, but strained. 

_April 13, 2012 - 12:10 AM_

Brad isn't quite sure how or when he ended up strapped to a gurney in the back of an ambulance, only that something was really wrong in this scenario. Vince was the only one who had ever tied him up. And even now, Vince knows to ask nicely if he wants to do it again.

Brad tied Vince up once. He remembers the feel of control, of power that coursed through his veins as he knelt in front of Vince, and took his cock in his mouth. 

He blinked up at the ceiling of the ambulance, the bright lights from the mini flashlight being shone directly into his eyes was enough to make a person blind. 

"Vinny," he whispers.

_April 12, 2012 - 10:35 PM_

"And the Broadway Hat goes to Captain Cally for the game's first goal, and a game-high seven hits!" Dan calls out, as he tosses the hat to Callahan, who dons the hat in a flourish.

Brad rubs his hair with a towel, as he sits by his locker room stall. The room is always electric after a win. A hard fought one just makes it better. He hears his phone chirp happily from his bag. He answers on the last ring.

"Vinny," he says, cradling his phone between his chin and shoulder as he pulls on his jeans. 

"Congrats on the win."

Brad smiles as his teammates pat him on the shoulder as they all gather their gear. "Well deserved," he says to Vince. 

"I'll bet."

"See you soon," Brad says.

"Not too soon," Vince says. "You're in for a long run."

A pause.

"Brad?"

"Hm?"

"I miss you."

Brad is still for a moment before he whispers, "I know."

_May 19, 2008 - 9:22 PM_

_Sorry_ , Vinny's text reads.

_I'm coming home soon_ , Brad texted back, before he tucked his phone away and turned to face the media.

_May 23, 2008 - 9:59 AM_

"Brad?" Vince asked, as he held the door to his house open.

"Let's go out on the boat together."

_April 13, 2012 - 12:36 AM_

"An accident?" Vince runs a hand through his hair, a sense of dread closing in around him.

He grips his kitchen counter, as he hears the faint sound of sirens in the background of the phone.

"John?" he asks, biting his bottom lip.

The pain shoots through his system; a painful reminder that this was not just a bad dream.

"Vince?"

"I'm still here, John."

"It doesn't look good."

_August 2, 2004 - 10:35 AM_

His plane touches down in Charlottetown, PEI. Brad's skin tingles in anticipation. He steps onto the tarmac, and is immediately engulfed in hugs from his family and closest friends. 

"It's good to be home," he says to his dad. 

_October 2000_

"You love me," Vince says, as he comes up behind Brad, and curls his arms around his waist.

Brad laughs, and continues slicing the lemons on the cutting board.

"You have the worst timing ever, y'know that?"

Vince covers Brad's hand with his own, and slides the knife from Brad's grasp. "Come on, Bradley. Say it."

Brad turns his head slightly, his lips sliding over Vince's jaw. He sighs. "If I say I do, will you hold it against me?"

Vince chuckles. "Only until after dinner."

"Then, yes, I do."

"You what?"

Brad turns, his back pressed against the counter, as he brings a hand up and runs it down Vince's cheek. "I love you."

"Why Bradley, I didn't know you cared."

Brad smacks his arm.

_August 2, 2004 - 12:02 PM_

Brad removed his shirt, and stared out at Cahoon's Cove, his eyes hidden from the sun by his sunglasses. He holds the Stanley Cup in his hands, and breathes in deeply, the sea air makes him smile.

"It doesn't get any better than this," he breathed as numerous other boats pulled up into the cove.

_September 1994 - 10 AM_

"I'm Vincent Lecavalier."

Brad watched as the tall, lanky teenaged boy held out his hand. 

"Bradley Richards," he replied.

_February 26, 2008 - 8:54 AM_

"I've been traded," Brad breathes into the phone.

"To where?" Vince asks.

"Dallas."

_June 27, 1998_

The first two rounds passed by him in a blur. Until, finally, the third round started. 

"The Tampa Bay Lightning is proud to select, from the Rimouski-Océanic, Bradley Richards."

 _circa 2000_

Rimouski-Océanic are the Memorial Cup champions. Brad still can't get over it, as he accepts the numerous awards handed out at the tournament. Suddenly, his NHL debut doesn't seem like that far off of a dream. 

_March 2008 - 12:40 AM_

"I miss you."

"Me too."

 _February 27, 2008_

Brad leaves on a morning flight from Tampa International Airport for Dallas. He stands with Vince outside the departure terminal. The sun is hot on the back of his neck, as he stares at Vince.

"See you around," Vince says.

"You too."

_August 2, 2004 - 12:15 PM_

Someone hands him a lobster, and Brad sets it into the bowl of the Stanley Cup. He poses for a picture with the Cup, and the lobster. 

"Is there any way I could take the Stanley Cup out for a ride?" 

_June 27, 1998_

"Come on, Brad," Vince breathes against his ear, as he curls his hands around his waist.

"Vinny," Brad starts, "we really shouldn't."

"Oh, yes, we should," Vince says.

Brad rolls his eyes. "We were just kids then, what makes you think we can just pick up where we -"

"- because you want to."

_June 8, 2004_

  
**TAMPA BAY LIGHTNING WIN THE 2004 STANLEY CUP CHAMPIONSHIP**  
The Tampa Bay Lightning defeated the Calgary Flames in game seven of the Stanley Cup Finals yesterday. Brad Richards awarded Conn Smythe and Lady Byng Memorial Trophy.

Winning the Stanley Cup is a dream for every NHL player. Some only ever dream about getting to hold it. And for the lucky ones who do get to hold it ...

The feeling is indescribable. 

_April 13, 2012 - 5:24 AM_

Vince leaves a note for Caroline telling her where he is going, before he climbs into a cab, a small bag clutched tightly in his hand.

"Where to?" the cab driver asks.

"The airport. And hurry."

Vince watches as his house fades to a small dot in the distance. 

"Hang on, Brad. I'm coming."

 _June 7, 2004_

"Andreychuk, come get the Stanley Cup!" 

Brad watches as their Team captain skates across the ice, shakes Gary Bettman's hand, and …

Then he's holding the gleaming, silver chalice in his hands, and lifts it over his head. 

Vince is beaming, as he drapes an arm around Brad's shoulder. "Living the dream, Bradley!"

"That we are, Vinny. That we are."

_Winter 1983_

The pond in his grandparent's backyard calls to him. He watches his dad as he helps him lace his skates up. 

"All right, Bradley, come on," his dad said, as he helped Brad to his feet.

Brad watched as their breath turned to fog as he exhaled. 

_June 1996_

"Touch yourself for me, Brad," Vince whispers, sitting on his bed, and eyeing his friend. "I want to see how you touch yourself."

Brad stands in front of Vince, as he strips his shirt off, and tugs at his belt. He looks a bit apprehensive, as he glances up to Vince, hand still on his belt buckle.

"Come on, Brad," Vince says. "You're going to miss me when I'm not here in the fall."

Brad bites his bottom lip. "It feels weird, Vinny."

Vince chuckles, before he undoes his jeans, and tugs them down to his ankles. He spits into his palm before he touches his own dick. "I'll do it if you do it." He strokes his cock slowly. "I think about you touching me when I touch myself."

"Oh, fuck, Vinny," Brad chokes out, as he hurriedly tugs his jeans off.

"That's it, Brad. Touch yourself for me."

"Jesus shit, Vinny," Brad moans, as he yanks his cock. "Keep talking."

"You fucking love it when you touch yourself while you think about me sucking you off. I'll bet you'd love it if I touched you. If I teased just the head of your dick with my tongue."

"Fucking shit, Vinny," Brad said, "Come on, Vinny. Touch me, already. Please."

Vince reaches a hand out, and tugs on Brad's cock, presses a thumb into the slit at the head. 

"Fuck. Don't stop, Vinny."

"Come for me then, Brad," Vince orders, as he works his hand faster on Brad's cock.

"Oh, shit. Fuck, you're going to make me fucking … come." 

Vince catches most of Brad's release in his hand, as he slides his hand slowly away from Brad's dick. 

"Christ, I'm going to miss you in the fall," Brad says.

_April 13, 2012 - 4:01 AM_

It is absolutely maddening trying to book a last minute flight, Vince thinks, as he paces in his living room.

"I know it's last minute, but I need a plane ticket to New York City," he breathes into the phone. "No, I don't care if it's LaGuardia or JFK."

Vince grips his phone so tightly he's sure it will snap. "Yes, I'll hold."

_August 3, 2004_

Premier Pat Binns declared August 3rd as 'Brad Richards Day' in PEI. Brad accepts the honour humbly, before he gives a speech.

_February 2009 - 1:39 AM_

"I miss you …"

"I miss you too."

"I miss your hands and what they did to me."

"Are you alone?"

"Maybe."

"Touch yourself."

Brad chuckles softly into the phone, as he stares out his apartment window at the Dallas streets. "I will if you will," he challenges. 

"I already am." 

"Motherfucking fuck, I miss you, Vinny."

Vince laughs. "I know."

_May 29, 2011 - 11:05 AM_

The flight from Boston to Tampa seemed to take longer than Vince thought it would. He is tired, but wired as hell as he says goodbye to his teammates and hurries to Davis Island. 

He just wants to take a fucking shower, fall asleep, and forget everything that happened. Instead, he finds himself pulling into Brad's driveway. 

Brad opens the door wearing a faded pair of jeans, and nothing else. "Vinny?"

Vince drops his bag in the entrance hall, grabs Brad's hand, and pulls him towards the couch. 

"Did you just get back?" Brad asks, as Vince pushes him down onto the cushions. 

Vince just nods, and straddles Brad's hips. "Make me forget."

Brad curls a hand in Vince's hair, and brings his head down to his. "Okay."

_April 13, 2012 - 12:26 AM_

He thinks this must be a dream. Because, there is no way he is being wheeled down a hospital corridor towards the OR.

"Vinny …" he breathes. 

It sounds more like a gurgling gasp.

_April 13, 2012 - 9:11 AM_

Vince clears customs, and races for the exit doors of JFK. He flags down the next available cab.

"How fast can you get me to this address?" he asks, showing the driver the address John texted him earlier that morning.

_September 1994, 9:02 AM_

He arrives at Athol Murray in the first blush of Fall. His parents usher him towards the Admissions building. 

Brad feels like he is carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

_April 13, 2012 - 12:28 AM_

Brad comes to long enough to see his coach hurrying through the ER's doors.

"Brad!" his coach yells as he approaches. "What the hell happened?"

"Sir, you're going to have to step back."

"Vinny …" Brad breathes, reaches a hand out for Tortorella. 

"I know, I know," Tortorella says. 

_June 1997_

Brad leaves Athol Murray for the QMJHL. The sun's rays are warm on his back as he shakes his coach's hand. He can't think of anything else except getting to see and play with Vinny again.

_circa 2005 - 11:42 PM_

"Does that mean this is like your second home?" 

Brad's eyes are hidden by his sunglasses, as he reclines in a deck chair, and turns his head to stare at Vince.

"Don't make me regret buying this house," he growls.

Vince laughs. "Don't kid yourself, you just can't stand to be away from me."

"Pfft," he says, rolling over onto his stomach.

"I'm serious, Bradley Glenn Richards." 

"So am I!" 

"About what, exactly?"

"About being able to stay away from you."

"Three words for you," Vince says. "You love me."

"Go away, Vinny."

_April 13, 2012 - 12:33 AM_

Brad drifts in and out of consciousness. He feels like someone has hit him repeatedly in the head. 

"Possible head trauma," he hears a voice say. 

The voice sounds like it is coming from far away.

"Vinny …" he thinks, before he drifts off again.

_August 1994_

Brad sits on the shoreline of his grandfather's pond. The same pond he learned how to skate on. The same one his dad had skated on too. Saskatchewan seems so far away from small-town Murray Harbour. 

_April 13, 2012 -10:03 AM_

Nothing changes. Then again, nothing stays the same either. 

Vince used to think fools believed nothing changes, nothing leaves. He thought he was never one of them. Except, now, he found himself wishing he could be one of them. Just a fool.

A fool who someone would have to drag - kicking and screaming - towards the change. 

Vince knows of the grief cycle. The one people say you go through when the loss of a loved one occurs. He clutches the gold chain in his hand - the one with the crucifix his parents gave him right before he left for Athol Murray - and sits in the hospital's ER. 

The rush of people rushes past him in a blur. But, all he can think of is death. It's ghostly, cold hand clinging to his arm. A painful reminder that he wishes he was dead.

Instead, he knows the hand is clinging to the OR doors. Because, as much as Vince wishes he was dead, he knows death is not here for him.

_July 2, 2011 - 3:06 PM_

_Very happy to become a New York Ranger today!!!_

_April 13, 2012 - 10:05 AM_

So, this is what it feels like. This is the moment people talk about their whole lives. The moment where feeling small and helpless is relative. Because, nothing else matters. Except wondering if someone you care about … someone you love, will wake up.

This is the start of the grief cycle ... 

Denial.

The numbness sets in.

_This is not happening to me._

Anger is usually the next emotion that crops up.

The need to want to break something can tear a person apart.

_"Why did this have to happen to me?"_

Bargaining is next.

_"Please, I'll do anything .. just don't leave me alone …"_

_It's not too late, Vinny. I'm not gone yet …_

Vince cradles his head in his hands as he sits helplessly in one of the hospital's very uncomfortable chairs. "Brad," he whispers to the air. "You'll be okay. You have to be okay. I can't … I can't make it without you."

_July 2, 2011 - 6:05 PM_

"I'm going to New York," Brad breathes into the phone.

"I heard," Vince replies.

"I miss you."

"I know."

"Vinny?"

"Hm?"

"I love you."

"Why Bradley, I didn't know you cared," Vince says teasingly.

_April 13, 2012 - 10:12 AM_

"Vince," John's voice causes Vince to look up. 

John's face is weary, his eyes haunted. Vince knows he looks like hell. John's face is almost a mirror of his own. Just as Vince gets to his feet, the doors to the OR open. The doctor walks out, lets out his breath in a long whoosh, and crosses the floor towards them.

Vince wants the floor to swallow him whole. "Just say it," Vince says in a voice he does not recognize as his own.

The doctor opens the file he is handed, initials beside the spots a nurse gestures to, before he looks up at John and Vince.

"We did -"

Vince is going to be sick … Christ, he needs to sit down …

…

…

"Bradley Richards …"

..

..

"Why Bradley, I didn't know you cared …"

.  
.

"I'm not gone yet …"

. 

.

_April 13, 2012 - 10:10 AM_

"Call it, doctor."

"Time of death, ten-ten AM."

The shrill beep of the heart monitor screeches for a few more seconds before it is turned off.

…

…

..

..

.

.

"One of us has to make it …"

Unspoken: Survive. _One of us has to survive._

Surviving sucks.

…

…

..

..

.

.

He wants a do over. 

…

…

..

..

.

.

_April 13, 2012 - 11:01 AM_

New York Post report …

****

**NEW YORK RANGERS CENTER, BRAD RICHARDS DIES FROM INJURIES SUSTAINED IN CAR CRASH**  
The Rangers, who are coming off a 4-2 win last night against the seventh seeded, Ottawa Senators will have to continue on their Playoff run without one of their star center's. 

The New York Rangers General Manager, Glen Sather, and Head Coach, John Tortorella to hold Press Conference at 1 PM at Madison Square Garden. 

Brad Richards, born May 2, 1980 in Murray Harbour, Prince Edward Island, Canada played with the Tampa Bay Lightning, and the Dallas Stars, before he signed a nine-year contract with the New York Rangers on July 2, 2011. He was thirty-one.

…

…

..

..

.

.

_September 1994_

"I'm Vincent Lecavalier," Vince says, extending a hand.

"Bradley Richards."

-x-

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Shattered](https://archiveofourown.org/works/630985) by [boltschick2612](https://archiveofourown.org/users/boltschick2612/pseuds/boltschick2612)




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